


Drinking Alone With The Moon

by sana



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Buddhism, Friendship/Love, Heian Period, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 01:17:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4371572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sana/pseuds/sana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heian period Japan AU!  Ukoku and Koumyou discuss poetry, folklore and other things.  Embracing emptiness doesn’t have to mean accepting loneliness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drinking Alone With The Moon

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is set in Japan during the late 10th century, at the height of the Heian period. It was a peaceful era during which beauty, art, and poetry were very highly prized by the aristocrats living in the capital city of Heian-Kyo (modern-day Kyoto). Buddhism, which had been imported from China, started to spread. While Chinese was still the official written language of the Heian imperial court, native Japanese literature began to flourish. Although the lives of men and women were still largely segregated, love affairs (the more torrid and tragic, the better!) were celebrated in the arts, and female writers (like Lady Murasaki, author of "The Tale of Genji") grew famous.
> 
> Anyway, that's enough history for now. This fic ended up having a ton of footnotes, so I put them at the bottom. If you're interested in my long-winded musings on obscure Saiyuki-related symbolism, keep on scrolling.
> 
> Thanks to Nala for beta reading, and for helping me to understand Ukoku's character, and for putting up with my history nerd rambling!

**Drinking Alone With The Moon**

_The moon falls, crows call, frosty mists fill the heavens_  
_Looking out from Maple Bridge, distant fishing lamps pierce these lonely eyes_  
_Outside Suzhou City, from the Cold Mountain Temple_  
_The midnight gong rings out, as the boats return_  
— Zhang Ji’s “A Night-Mooring At Maple Bridge”

“Hm. I thought those summer moon-viewing parties were in fashion among the nobility lately?” Koumyou mused, puffing lightly on a long pipe. “But Ukoku, you’ve barely even glanced up at the sky.”

With daybreak only a few hours away, the full moon was slowly sinking towards the horizon, but it remained bright and blue-white in the western heavens. The overgrown weeds of Koumyou’s courtyard rustled in the slight breeze and cast long shadows like the trees of some alien landscape. The oil lamps had burned down hours ago, but there was little need for them now.

“Fashionable, and painfully boring.” Ukoku propped himself up on one elbow and tilted his head towards Koumyou. The older man wore only a thin summer robe over his naked body, and the skin beneath the silk gauze glowed like white jade in the moonlight. His flax-colored hair, shot through with a few strands of silver, hung loose and unstyled down his back. “The best thing about being a disgrace to the Imperial Court is that I’m no longer expected to attend night-time poetry readings at the Summer Palace. The poems are all unbelievably trite and tasteless. I swear, the Court has used up this country’s entire supply of lunar metaphors. I should suggest an official ban to preserve what little originality we have left.”

“Oh?” Koumyou smiled serenely, like a statue of some bodhisattva. “I’d say that the moon looks like a mochi cake.”

“…You would,” Ukoku snorted and sat up. “I never know if you’re going to say something profound or something completely idiotic.”

Koumyou’s bodhisattva smile twitched into a demon’s smirk. In the pale light, he could have been either. “Who says there’s any difference between the profound and the idiotic?”

“That’s just another statement that could be taken as either profound or idiotic.”

“I like to keep you guessing.”

Ukoku had been born with poor eyesight, so he ordinarily wore a pair of imported glass magnifying lenses set in a metal frame. He’d left those back in the interior of Koumyou’s house for safekeeping, though. Without his glasses, the distant stars were swallowed up by blackness, and the full moon was a blinding blur of light.

Koumyou was like moonlight in human form, Ukoku decided. His cool radiance revealed little and threw the rest into still deeper shadow.

“…Anyway,” he began in a huskier tone, “who needs the moon when you’re right here?”

Like any nobleman of the Imperial Court, Ukoku was an accomplished poet, but his talent was more artifice than art. The senior government ministers frequently held competitions for the capital’s elite to show off their skills at Chinese-style poetry, so a few lines on familiar seasonal imagery or the beauty of one’s secret mistress were a way for nobles to build status amongst their peers. In a less peaceful time, perhaps they would have simply stabbed each other in the back, but now Court rivalries were fought with the writing brush instead of the sword.

Ukoku thought it was all rather boring, and yet here he was, being moved to metaphor in the weed-choked private garden of a common-born Imperial astrologer of middling sixth rank. It was ridiculous. If anyone at the Court knew, there would be a scandal. Not because Ukoku’s affair was with a man – such trysts were widely practiced by men and women alike – but because Koumyou was so much lower on the social hierarchy. Everything from the lavishness of a courtier’s residence to the color of his clothing was determined by an elaborate ranking system, but Ukoku’s own violet inner robes had been thoughtlessly discarded on the veranda along with Koumyou’s pale green, and the two of them had lay naked and entwined beneath the night sky. While Koumyou had since wrapped himself in a thin robe to ward off the late summer chill, Ukoku lounged brazenly on a silk mat. The older man smoked dried hemp from a long pipe, and the smoke that escaped his mouth undulated slowly through the moonbeams.

Ukoku felt a stirring of interest in his cock as Koumyou’s lips wrapped around the pipe stem and sucked in another mouthful of smoke. He shifted closer to the other man and nuzzled the faintly sweat-dampened hair at the back of his neck. “Ready for another go?”

Koumyou laughed and pulled away to tap the ash from his pipe. “Heavens, Ukoku. I’m not 20 anymore, you know. Give me a bit of time.”

Undeterred, Ukoku purred against his ear. “We have all night.”

“The moon is setting already. It won’t be long until dawn.”

“ _The moon falls, crows call, frosty mists fill the heavens…_ ” Ukoku recited, beginning the first line of a well-known Chinese poem. “Don’t they say that words can freeze a moment in time?” He continued on with the verse. “ _Looking out from Maple Bridge, distant fishing lamps pierce these lonely eyes. Outside Suzhou City, from the Cold Mountain Temple, the midnight gong rings out, as the boats return…_ ”

Koumyou hummed agreeably and set his pipe aside. “Zhang Ji’s ‘Night-Mooring At Maple Bridge?’   It’s a favorite of mine, but isn’t it a bit melancholy compared to your usual love poems?”

Courtship among the nobility was a ritualized affair, beginning with a lengthy exchange of coy poems written on delicately scented paper and culminating in night-time assignations carried out under the pretense of secrecy – in reality, of course, paper screens made poor walls and everyone in the Imperial Court knew everyone else’s business. Although Ukoku was himself a poet (and a lover) of some small fame, he found palace life stifling. Here, in Koumyou’s walled garden on the outskirts of Heian-Kyo, there was no need for pretense beneath the light of the brilliant moon.

“Perhaps I’d like to see the moon fall beneath me?” Ukoku replied with a devious smirk, and Koumyou laughed before wrapping his arms around his shoulders to pull him closer. Like the moon sinking towards the horizon, Koumyou lowered them to the silk mat with languid grace.

“I can’t believe it,” he laughed incredulously. “You really can turn anything into innuendo!”

“It’s my specialty.”

“Mm, well, if you’re as gifted with your hands as you are with your tongue, then perhaps I won’t need that much time after all.”

Ukoku chuckled softly and pressed his lips to Koumyou’s collarbone, sliding the robe from his shoulders. He could feel Koumyou’s fingers twisting in his hair. After having it shorn off two years ago when he entered the monastery, Ukoku’s hair had finally grown back to a length where he could almost have worn it tied into a topknot and covered with a cap as did most noblemen, but instead he chose to leave it loose and wild in defiance of fashion. He was the disgrace of the Imperial Court, after all, and there was a certain image to uphold. “Take your time. It won’t be dawn for another hour or two at least.”

But Koumyou’s fingers had stilled, and there was a gentle smile on his face as he looked towards the faintly lightening eastern sky. “Ah, that’s right. Kouryuu will be awake soon…”

Annoyed, Ukoku pulled away and brushed his unruly hair back into place as he sat up. “Of all the times to mention the brat…”

“Are you jealous?” Koumyou straightened too, and gave him a bemused smile.

“Of course not. You spoil him too much, that’s all. No wonder he’s such a brat.” There was no way that Ukoku was jealous of a sullen 6-year-old. He didn’t even hate the kid, not really. What he hated was the way that Koumyou’s eyes went soft and distant whenever he talked about his beloved son.

“Oh, then perhaps I spoil you too much, too.”

Ukoku pointedly ignored the older man and gazed up at the sky in earnest for the first time that evening. Although the bright and blurry moon was sinking in the west, the opposite horizon was beginning to turn grey with the first hints of sunlight. Scattered clouds illuminated by silvery moonlight formed a veil of mist across the night sky, which he imagined to be the curtains of a lady’s bedchamber or the almost translucent silk of her inner robes.

It was no use, though. Ukoku’s thoughts kept returning to the smiling man who sat before him.

Koumyou was one of the senior _onmyouji_ with the Bureau of Divination, a department within the Imperial government administration that had become well-known as a dumping ground for scholars who scored well on the civil service exams but who lacked the family connections and social capital to secure more prestigious positions. As such, Koumyou was a mere sixth-rank official – technically an aristocrat, but barely above the level of palace servants in the eyes of most hereditary nobles from powerful clans. Even the Bureau of Divination was dominated by members of the Kamo and Ashiya families, who spent much of their time squabbling over what little influence they had over the Imperial Court.

 _Onmyouji_ were scholars tasked with the tedious duty of maintaining the official calendar, preparing horoscopes, and calculating auspicious days and directions using Taoist methods of astronomy imported from China. They also practiced a foreign form of exorcism based on the balance of yin and yang energy, but the city of Heian-Kyo was so peaceful that most _onmyouji_ went their entire careers without ever defeating a demon or sealing a vengeful ghost. Instead, they told fanciful stories about all the spirits they _weren’t_ vanquishing… which made them entertaining guests at parties, but not the most socially fashionable people to associate with in public. It was generally agreed that everyone in the Bureau of Divination was a bit _odd_.

Even among his colleagues, though, Koumyou was strange. Ukoku had heard rumors of people with light-colored hair who lived far to the north of Ezo and across the sea, but no one knew for certain where Koumyou had come from. He had no family name (or at least none that he was willing to divulge), which meant that he was either a commoner or the bastard son of some backwater provincial official whose name would have done more harm than good among the status-conscious courtiers. He’d passed the Imperial civil service examination with a perfect score at the age of twenty-one, a feat exceeded only by Ukoku himself, but there were no records of his activities prior to arrival in the capital.

Despite presumably humble origins, Koumyou had gained the Emperor’s favor after dispelling a curse from his then-favorite wife. With an astuteness belied by an easygoing, bumbling manner, Koumyou had uncovered several underhanded attempts at using sorcery to gain favor within the Imperial Court – a ghost sent to terrify a rival, a spirit trained to eavesdrop on private conversations, a demon bound to tell its master forbidden secrets from the other realms of existence. Even so, Koumyou seemed motivated neither by personal glory nor by any sense of morality. Instead, he simply claimed to feel sympathy for the unfortunate spirits who’d been unwillingly caught up in human affairs.

“…They say that you’re not even human, you know.” Ukoku’s abrupt change of subject earned a small blink of surprise from Koumyou.

“Oh? Who says that?”

“People at the Emperor’s Court. They say you can’t possibly be human with hair that color, so you must be a spirit from the moon.”

“Like Princess Kaguya from the fairy tale?” Koumyou laughed. “Well, the stories do say that Princess Kaguya shone like moonlight, but don’t worry – I’m not nearly so hard to woo! I won’t make you bring me a dragon’s jewel or a cloak of fire-rat fur to win my hand in marriage!” He smiled, and the tension between them evaporated as easily as mist. “What about you? Do you believe the rumors?”

“They’re easy to believe,” Ukoku replied, leaning close again to run his hand through Koumyou’s unbound hair. It was usually worn tucked up inside a cap or plaited into a long braid by the brat, so Ukoku rarely had a chance to enjoy the feel of golden strands against his fingertips. Koumyou shivered in pleasure at the touch.

“Mm, gossip. The favorite pastime of the idle nobility.”

“Now that’s hardly fair.” Ukoku twined a few strands of Koumyou’s hair around his finger. “I actually keep myself very busy, you know.”

The older man snorted in amusement. “Yes, with a different bed-partner every night!” There was no accusation in his voice, only wry humor.

Whatever the nature of the relationship between them, it certainly wasn’t an exclusive arrangement. They’d started sleeping together during the year following Ukoku’s banishment from Enryaku-ji Temple, when he’d been officially placed under Koumyou’s supervision in what was probably intended to be a punishment for both of them. Now that Ukoku had officially come into his adulthood, though, he was free to spend his nights in the company of palace beauties if he chose to do so. Or, if he chose to do so, he could hire palanquin bearers to discreetly take him to Koumyou’s rambling mansion on the edge of the city. It was unlikely that his father would care either way.

“Well, I am an Imperial prince. There are certain standards of impropriety to maintain.”

Koumyou gave him a deliberately vapid smile. “Oh, that’s right! I’d forgotten. Forgive me, _Prince_ _Kenyuu_ , but there are _so many_ other Imperial princes, after all!”

Ukoku wrinkled his nose at the use of his former name. The comment was a subtle jab at his official station – as the son of a low-ranking concubine, he was lucky to be acknowledged as a prince at all.

“Which means that I’m safely out of the line of succession. Court politics are best enjoyed as a spectator sport, don’t you think?” The ostensible prince reached for a bottle of rice wine sweetened with dried persimmons, and poured two cups. “Speaking of politics, Koumyou, what do you think of my honored father’s latest concubine?”

“Another one?” I’m sure that the Fujiwara clan is feeling snubbed.” The Fujiwaras were the most prominent family among the Emperor’s advisors, so the Empress was often a princess chosen from one of the innumerable branches of their family tree. Through the wives and mothers of future emperors, they exerted considerable influence. “Crown Prince Kougaiji is one of theirs, though, so they’ll just sulk quietly.”

“That’s not what I mean. People are saying that this ‘Lady Gyokumen’ is really a fox spirit in disguise.” _Kitsune_ were known to take the shapes of alluring young men and women in order to deceive unwitting humans, and the Lady Gyokumen – elegant, beautiful and charming in a calculated way that Ukoku was all too familiar with – had been the talk of the entire Court for the past week. Predictably, Koumyou hadn’t heard anything about it.

“More gossip? Well, neither of us is really in a position to judge the affairs of others, are we? Still… if that’s true, it could turn into a troublesome situation. The Crown Prince is hotheaded, and it won’t be long before he starts making accusations… in the worst case, he could even be demoted.”

“And then I’d be one step closer to the throne. Nobody wants that.”

“Like I said, it’s a troublesome situation.”

“Of course, there’s an easier way to solve the problem,” Ukoku drawled, offering Koumyou one of the wine cups. “We could just look under her skirts and see if she has a tail.”

His companion laughed and took the cup, draining the sweet liquor in one swig. “That does sound like something you would do.”

“You make it sound like you’ve never had a lascivious thought in your life.”

Momentary unease flickered across Koumyou’s perpetually sleepy expression, and his eyes widened. Unlike the brat’s striking violet eyes, Koumyou’s were a light honey-brown, but Ukoku found the color no less exotic. The faint lines between the older man’s brows furrowed in thought. “Well, I wouldn’t say never… but before I met you, I rarely had such thoughts. And when I did, I didn’t act on them.”

Now it was Ukoku’s turn to be surprised as he thought back to the first time Koumyou had kissed him. He remembered the metallic bitterness of Goudai’s blood splattered across their lips, mingled with the salty taste of tears. Which one of them had been crying? He couldn’t remember anymore. But he remembered the heat of Koumyou’s mouth, the graceless and desperate press of lips and teeth, the way Koumyou had gripped his shoulders hard enough to leave bruises that didn’t fade for days. He remembered the way his vision had gone dark at the edges as the breath was stolen from his lungs, and he remembered feeling as if Koumyou might devour him completely. He remembered wishing that he would.

At the time, he’d attributed Koumyou’s roughness to anger or grief… but had it been inexperience instead? Koumyou glanced away, looking slightly embarrassed. Ukoku was neither humble nor modest, but it was still strange to think of himself as the only person who could stir ripples across Koumyou’s placid surface.

“…What about that kid of yours, then?” The brat didn’t have his father’s warm brown eyes, but they shared hair the color of dry autumn grasses. Kouryuu had to be the product of some liaison that Koumyou didn’t want to acknowledge.

But Koumyou only smiled and shook his head, laughing softly. “Oh! I thought you would have noticed by now.”

“Noticed what?”

“That Kouryuu isn’t human. He’s a _shikigami_ created from one of my paper talismans.”

Ukoku had seen _shikigami_ before, of course. A skilled enough _onmyouji_ could cut a paper _ofuda_ into the rough shape of a doll and bring the charm to life. _Shikigami_ were soulless servants, though, only capable of following basic commands. For all of the brat’s irritating qualities, he was alive in the way that a scrap of enchanted paper never could be. “But that’s…”

“Impossible? Yes, normally, but the Goddess of Mercy asked me to look after a certain soul for her, you see…”

That would explain the brat’s unnaturally-colored eyes, at least, but other than that, Koumyou’s answer only raised more questions. “…You’re on awfully familiar terms with the Goddess for someone who’s not even a real Buddhist.”

Although the people of the Imperial Court practiced imported Chinese Buddhism alongside their native Shinto religion, Buddhists were officially forbidden from performing divinations and casting spells. _Onmyouji_ like Koumyou were allowed to follow their own form of heretical shamanism though, because even the most devout Buddhist wouldn’t think of leaving the safety of the palace without consulting a horoscope first.

“Actually, I spent some time in the monastery on Mount Hiei in my youth.”

“Hm? You never told me that before.”

“You didn’t ask,” Koumyou answered mildly.

As an illegitimate prince with no connections through his mother’s family, Ukoku couldn’t take an important position within the government. His rank also barred him from taking a position of lower status – although he’d managed a perfect score on the civil service exams at the age of only 17, the son of a reigning Emperor could hardly work as a humble bureaucrat. No amount of studying would have allowed Prince Kenyuu to escape the fate that had already been decided by the ill-fated alignment of the stars at the hour of his birth.

Enryaku-ji Temple was a day’s hard journey from the capital, high on the slopes of Mount Hiei. As the headquarters of the Tendai sect of Buddhism, the temple had grown increasingly involved with the affairs of the Imperial Court. In the same way that surplus Imperial princesses were sent to Ise to work as priestesses of the Grand Shrine, surplus princes were sent to Enryaku-ji to become monks. An Imperial scion in the role of head monk would cement ties between the Court and the powerful temple.

Kenyuu had no intention of becoming a monk, of course, and the temple abbot – his former master – had even less intention of letting a spoiled prince lead the 200-year-old temple. Instead, Master Goudai had treated him much like a stern father might treat an unruly son. For Kenyuu, who had rarely met his own father, it had been a strange and yet not entirely unpleasant experience. Had he been born under different stars, perhaps he may have even found a calling of sorts in the priesthood. There was certainly no lack of power to be had – Mount Hiei was the repository for one of the Heaven and Earth Sutras, artifacts of incredible power that had, according to legend, been crafted during the creation of the world. And despite the trappings of asceticism, a high-ranking monk could live like a king, with wealth and women and armies at his disposal. Master Goudai was a fool to wear robes of sackcloth and eat cheap millet like a peasant when he could have marched his army of warrior monks down the mountain and taken the palace of Heian-Kyo. The pampered nobles would have stumbled over their own skirts in their haste to flee. Although Kenyuu had never held any particular ambitious towards the throne, he had to admit that it sounded highly entertaining.

But the night sky was cold, and the stars were cruel.

“So you knew Goudai back when he had hair, huh?”

“Oh yes, believe it or not, he had a magnificent mane of it when we were younger!” Koumyou laughed, but shielded his eyes behind long eyelashes. There was a distant look on his face that Ukoku couldn’t quite identify. “Momo-chan – that’s Master Goudai to you! – was my dear friend.”

“Is that why he had you witness the succession ceremony, even though there were plenty of senior monks at the temple?”

Koumyou nodded slightly. “Indeed. I must say, that didn’t go the way I expected. But I think it went exactly the way Goudai expected.”

“…What do you mean by that?”

Disease swept through the capital every summer, festering in the hot and stagnant air. Although the Imperial Court tended to think of itself as far removed from the pollution of the lower classes, in reality, Heian-Kyo sat at the crossroads of many trading routes that carried the foul miasma of disease from the uncivilized provinces. That summer, Master Goudai had been stricken by consumption, and although the clean mountain air had slowed its progression, the disease was as relentless as it was predictable. Goudai, once a large man, seemed diminished with every passing day. When his persistent cough grew bloody, he’d summoned his top students for a ritual of succession.

All his top students except Kenyuu, that was. At only seventeen and a half, he was far too young for the position of abbot – that role would inevitably pass to one of the senior monks. But Goudai would need to choose a successor to the Muten Sutra… and the sutra sang out to Kenyuu from the temple’s innermost reliquary chambers, calling him in a way that nothing and no one ever had. The boredom and lack of purpose he’d felt as a prince had turned to all-consuming emptiness. He needed the sutra. And he knew, in a way, that it needed him too.

Koumyou was quiet.

“ _Koumyou._ What do you mean by that?”

“What I mean, Ukoku, is that I don’t blame you for Goudai’s death. I knew, as did he, that when he summoned me to the temple to oversee the ritual of succession, that it would mean his death. After all, ownership of a sutra can only be passed on when its master dies. I should know, since I bear two of them.”

“You… what?” Ukoku looked around, as if Koumyou might leave two of the world’s most valuable magical artifacts laying out on his veranda. Knowing Koumyou, he _would_. “You’re a _Sanzo priest_? But I’ve never seen you wear the sutras. You don’t even have a chakra mark.”

“Well, I am a bit of a heretic, after all.”

“Where are they?” Even if Koumyou, like Goudai, chose not to wear the holy scriptures over his shoulders in the fashion of a proper Sanzo priest, he surely kept them in jewel-encrusted case like the priceless treasures they were.

“Propping up the legs of that old writing desk in my study.”

“You…” Ukoku slumped, shaking his head. “I’m not even surprised. Never again! I don’t think there’s anything you can say that will surprise me anymore.”

Koumyou smiled slightly, although that wistful expression hadn’t quite left his face. “Momo-chan chose you, Ukoku. As ill has he was, do you really think that the bearer of the Muten Sutra couldn’t have stopped you? You at least could give him a death that was fast and painless.” He sighed, looking weary for a moment. Koumyou claimed to be forty, but there were times when his eyes seemed much, much older. “He called me to witness the succession so he could leave you in my care. And… so he could say goodbye. After all, he was in love with me.”

Ukoku blinked and reached to adjust glasses that he wasn’t wearing. “…What?”

“I thought you said that I’d never surprise you again.”

“ _Koumyou…_ ”

“It was barely a minute ago. Hm, that was a very brief ‘never,’ wasn’t it?”

“Koumyou, shut up.” Ukoku rubbed his temples, sensing the beginnings of a headache.

“Is it really that shocking, though? Even a Sanzo priest is only human.” He took a breath, and began to recite the last lines of the poem Ukoku himself had spoken earlier. “ _Looking out from Maple Bridge, distant fishing lamps pierce these lonely eyes. Outside Suzhou City, from the Cold Mountain Temple, the midnight gong rings out, as the boats return._ ”

Ukoku’s lips quirked into a crooked smile. “Is that your idea of love poetry after all?” Koumyou laughed softly.

“People can be like boats in darkness, don’t you think? They pass each other by without ever knowing how close they are.” Blond hair slid forward, half-obscuring his face. “Yes, he loved me, although we were never lovers. And I loved him, although I realized it too late. By that time, our boats had already passed, and the space between us was too dark and too deep.”

“…Why?”

Koumyou sighed, turning back to the sinking moon. Soon it would brush the tops of the peach trees at the edge of his garden. “I inherited the Seiten Sutra when I’d been on this earth just a bit longer than you. I was young and foolish. I wish I could say that a missed opportunity for a love affair was my greatest regret… but one sutra is a heavy burden, and two are doubly so.”

“The previous bearer of the Maten Sutra was… that _youkai_ fortune-teller, right?” Why hadn’t Ukoku paid more attention to the histories of the Sanzo priests during training? Or had Master Goudai also been eager to gloss over memories that still obviously pained Koumyou, all these years later?

“Tenkai, yes. It was my mistake that killed him.”

“…What happened?”

Koumyou’s tight smile was as cold as the face of the man in the moon. “Tenkai touched something that should have stayed untouchable. Goudai reached out to touch it as well, and in the end it killed them both.”

Long silence yawned between them, opening like a desolate void darker than anything Ukoku had seen at the heart of the Maten Sutra. But while the Goddess of Mercy herself had said that true enlightenment could be found within emptiness, inside this endless night there was only loneliness.

_…No._

Even the darkest night could be consumed by moonlight.

“Koumyou,” Ukoku began, breaking the silence. “What are you?”

The older man looked up in surprise. “Eh?”

“ _What_ are you?”

“…What do you mean?”

“Master Goudai barely mentioned the other four Heaven and Earth Sutras at all, but I do remember one thing… and that’s that the Maten Sutra was intended for a _youkai_ Sanzo. A normal human being shouldn’t be able to use it.”

After the gods had brought forth the world from chaos, the five sutras had been created to maintain the order and balance of the universe. The Seiten Sutra, with the power of life; the Uten Sutra, with the power of growth; the Kouten Sutra, with the power of protection; the Maten Sutra, with the power to restrain evil; and the Muten Sutra, with the power to wipe everything away and start anew. But the gods had retired to their celestial mansions, leaving the sutras in the hands of ordinary mortals. Of the five, the Maten Sutra had been reserved for use by non-humans in recognition of their equal status in the eyes of Heaven.

Koumyou paused and tapped a finger against his chin, brows furrowing in consideration. “…Oh. That’s right. I’d completely forgotten about that.”

“So you’re not human.”

“That’s a rather personal question, isn’t it?”

Ukoku rolled his eyes. “We’ve been sitting here naked all night, and now you’re suddenly shy?”

“…I suppose you do have a point.” Koumyou crossed his legs anyway, settling into a comfortable and slightly more modest half-lotus pose. “It’s just… difficult to explain, that’s all.”

“Are you a _youkai_?”

“Do I look like one?”

“Not really, but you’re not answering the question.”

With an exasperated sigh, the _onmyouji_ looked towards the pinkish-grey of first light. “Tenkai had a gift… a curse, you might call it. With only a touch, he could see a person’s entire future laid out from birth to death. Do you know what he saw when he touched me? “ Koumyou paused, pursing his lips into a thin line before beginning again. “He saw darkness, Ukoku. Endless night. The burning cold and silence of space. A sky so black that even the stars are swallowed up. That’s my future, and my past. It’s the place I came from and the place I’ll return to.”

The airless void stretched on between them, empty of sound and substance. Neither of them spoke for what felt like a thousand years. In the space between heartbeats, the stars seemed to shift in their positions.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Ukoku reached out to brush aside the hair that had fallen across Koumyou’s face. “You’re the moon, so you can only see the night.”

“The moon?” Finally, Koumyou cracked a smile. “You’ve been reading too many poems. I’m not nearly as reliable as the moon.”

“Hm, maybe not.” Ukoku shifted closer to him. “What about eclipses? Those are unpredictable.”

“Actually, they’re quite easy to forecast with simple geometry once you accept that the moon orbits the earth and the earth revolves around the sun.”

“…What?” Ukoku snorted, barely stifling a laugh. _That_ had to be the _most_ preposterous thing Koumyou had ever said, and Koumyou said ridiculous things on a regular basis. “Everyone knows that the heavens are a hollow hemisphere, and that the moon and planets move alone tracks carved between the celestial mansions.”

“Oh? For someone who’s never been more than a day’s journey from the capital, you’re certainly very sure about the boundaries of the universe,” Koumyou chided.

“Koumyou, for fuck’s sake, _what are you_?”

Smirking slightly, Koumyou reclined against the veranda’s wooden column and reached again for the jug of persimmon wine. “I could tell you, but it’s so much more fun to let you guess.”

“Don’t tell me – you’re the moon goddess’s pet rabbit from the Chinese folktales.”

“Oh, but Ukoku,” he deadpanned, “you’ve already looked under my skirts and found no tail.”

“I could look again.” Ukoku crawled towards Koumyou, settling in his lap so he could press his mouth against the other man to taste the sweet liquor on his lips and the salty skin of his jaw. He felt Koumyou’s length stiffen against his thigh as hands that always seemed so deceptively gentle slid down his back and cupped his ass, pulling him closer.   Ukoku let out a gasp, straddling his mentor’s lap until their hardening cocks were pressed between the warmth of their bodies. “What,” he whispered hoarsely, punctuating each word with a nip to Koumyou’s ear, “are you?”

Koumyou shifted beneath him, and the two of them sank to the floor. “There’s another Chinese legend about the moon, you know.”

How could the other man’s voice be so maddeningly calm when Ukoku’s breath felt like fire in his chest? But Koumyou’s steadily growing hardness and the faint flush of pink across his cheeks were indisputable proof of his interest, which was enough to satisfy Ukoku.

“They say,” Koumyou continued, “that a vast forest covers the moon, and a Taoist immortal who neglected his training is punished by being forced to cut his way through the trees. But every month, just as the poor man comes close to clearing the forest and earning his freedom, the trees grow back. It happens again and again, for all eternity.”

“Hm? Isn’t there a story like that in this country, too? Prince Yuhara wrote a short poem about forests on the moon two hundred years ago. How did it go again…? Oh, right. _‘I’ve fallen in love with one who I can never touch. She is like the katsura trees growing on the distant moon._ ’”

Only slightly distracted by his poetry recitation, Ukoku ground insistently against Koumyou’s thigh. He dimly recalled the old tale of the _katsura-otoko_ , a man of incomparable beauty who tended to the trees and flowers of Heaven. Those who gazed too long at the moon risked falling in love with the moon’s lonely gardener.

“Ah…” Ukoku’s eyes slipped closed. “There’s another poem, isn’t there? By Lady Ise. Mm, how did that one begin… _‘Oh, my man in the moon with your forest of trees, when it rains, know that my tears are falling for you_.’ Something like that, wasn’t it?”

Belatedly, Ukoku realized that the other man had gone still beneath him.

“That’s right,” Koumyou replied softly. His fingers, still splayed across Ukoku’s back, felt cold despite the heat of their bodies. “The _katsura-otoko_ is admired by many, but if he reaches down from his garden, his touch drains away the life of those who love him. Anyone who falls in love with the moon is cursed to die.”

In the earliest Japanese myths, the moon god, Tsukuyomi, had thoughtlessly slain a woman who fell in love with him, causing his sister, the sun goddess, to banish him to the far side of the sky. In the old Chinese tales, the moon goddess Chang-E was originally a mortal woman whose beloved husband had been driven to madness and cruelty by his lust for power. Chang-E fled into the heavens and watched as the man she still loved died miserable and alone.

And then there was the story of Princess Kaguya, the golden, glowing child born from a bamboo stalk. The tale of tragic love had recently grown popular among the capital’s poets and storytellers. Kaguya grew into a beautiful and gentle young woman, but when royal suitors tried to trick her into marriage, she’d sent them all to their dooms. The Emperor himself fell deeply in love with her, but she could not return his affections. Instead, she sadly confessed that she was a princess from the moon, sent to live among humans as punishment for her interest in mortals – the love she felt for her adoptive parents and the Emperor would inevitably turn to pain as they grew old and died. Princess Kaguya then donned a robe of feathers and flew back to her home, unable to stay with those who loved her.

“…That’s it. You’re not human. You really are a spirit from the moon.”

Beneath him, Koumyou laughed ruefully and raised his hand to shield his eyes from the slowly fading moonlight. “I always knew you’d figure it out eventually. Just like Princess Kaguya, I was cast out of Heaven for my unhealthy fascination with the human world. How could I not be fascinated, when this world has people like you in it?” He smiled, eyes closed. “But you and I are from very different worlds, in the truest sense… and that’s why this needs to stop.”

“ _Bullshit._ ” Ukoku pinned the older man to the ground and claimed his mouth with a kiss that was all teeth and anger. He’d witnessed Koumyou’s impressive physical strength firsthand and had little doubt that he could toss him aside with ease, but instead, Koumyou broke the kiss with a single finger pressed to Ukoku’s lips.

“You don’t understand. You _can’t_.”

“You’re not the tragic heroine of some fairy tale, Koumyou.”

Koumyou halfheartedly attempted to squirm out of their embrace, but Ukoku simply rolled so the other man lay over him. A curtain of long hair fell over them, tickling his face. “If you know so many poems and stories,” Koumyou sighed, “then you know that my kind are cursed. The creatures of Heaven are forbidden from touching the living.” Despite his protests, Koumyou’s hands roamed Ukoku’s body and traced the contours of his chest. Ukoku hissed through his teeth when cool fingers brought his nipples to hardness. “Like the _katsura-otoko_ that slowly steals the life from those he touches… at this rate, I’ll kill you.”

Ukoku grabbed hold of the other man’s hand and brought it to his face to suck his fingers and warm the cold skin with his breath. If some heavenly prohibition prevented the moon spirit from touching him, then he’d be the one to reach out to Koumyou. Heaven be damned.

“You’ve already killed me,” Ukoku answered in a breathless rasp. The fingers slid from his mouth as he released Koumyou’s hand. “And then I was reborn, with the name you gave me.”

“ _Ukoku…_ ” Koumyou’s trembling lips brushed against his throat.

Ukoku raised one knee and spread his legs in wanton invitation. Koumyou’s touches – light and teasing, as if he feared letting his hands linger on Ukoku’s skin too long – always left him pleading for more. Had Koumyou been trying to protect him from the curse all this time, or did the bastard simply like watching his proud younger lover writhe and claw at the futon as he struggled not to beg? Knowing Koumyou, it could be either, or both.

Wet fingers found his cock and moved delicately over the length, stroking him with maddening tenderness. Instinct made Ukoku thrust his hips, but Koumyou loosened his grip and denied him the satisfaction of such a quick release. Ukoku’s head fell back against the floor as he let out a frustrated moan. “Damn it, Koumyou, just fuck me! I know there are stories about the moon driving men to madness, but you don’t have to be so literal about it!”

“But my curse…”

“There is no curse, you idiot.”

Startled, Koumyou tried to pull back, but Ukoku grabbed a fistful of his hair to hold him close.   “What about Momo-chan? I killed him.”

“Goudai was dying of the same summer sickness that killed a dozen monks at Enryaku-ji that year.   Epidemics have been sweeping the capital since the time of the first Emperor, long before you came. And in any case, I think I had a little more to do with his death than you did.”

“But still…”

“ _There is no curse._ You’ve been the master of the Maten Sutra for fifteen years now, haven’t you? If you studied at Enryaku-ji too, then you must have learned about the sutras and the Sanzo priests. Do you remember the properties of the Maten Sutra?”

“Er, to be honest, I think I slept through that lecture.”

“…Typical.” Ukoku rolled his eyes. “Let me jog your memory, then. The powers of the Maten Sutra involve purification, banishment of evil, restraint and the breaking of curses.”

Koumyou blinked in surprise as Ukoku tugged his hair, dragging him closer. “…Oh. I see.”

“So if there was a curse, then there’s been more than enough time for the sutra to neutralize it. You told me once before that the sutras choose their own masters, and that they go to the place where they’re needed.” The Muten Sutra had chosen Ukoku, even if the gods had refused to bestow him with a chakra mark as a sign of their blessing.

“…I suppose you’re right,” Koumyou admitted, shaking his head incredulously. It seemed as if a decade of worried lines had suddenly disappeared from his face – like a shapeshifting _kitsune_ , could he change his age and appearance at will? Or was it simply a trick of the half-light? “Tenkai could see his own death, and my future… he must have known that his sutra would pass to me. I never even considered that.”

“Koumyou, as fucking brilliant as you are, sometimes you’re just a fucking idiot.” Ukoku released his grip on his hair and flicked his forehead, right where the gods had failed to leave their mark. It seemed as if they were still intent on keeping him exiled from Heaven. “Now if that’s settled…” He lay back against the futon and stretched leisurely, making himself comfortable. “If you don’t finish what you started, I may die of sheer sexual frustration, and then it really will be your fault.”

“And then you really will curse me!” The other man laughed – gods above, there were nights when Ukoku had gotten himself off just by imagining the sound of that soft laugh against his ear. But tonight he wanted more than just imagination. He wanted Koumyou’s hands on him and inside him, teasing pleasure from him in a way that no one else could. “Well,” Koumyou continued, smiling, “we can’t have that. You’d make for a troublesome ghost. Worse than Tenjin-sama, even!” His fingertip circled Ukoku’s entrance and pressed inside. Still slick with oil from their previous encounter that evening, the younger man yielded easily to him.

There was little need for preparation, but Ukoku still enjoyed the feeling of being stretched. It was a slow burn that ignited even greater fires, especially when Koumyou crooked his fingers inside him and sent a jolt of pleasure tingling up his spine. But when Koumyou lowered his head and breathed hot against his cock, Ukoku waved him away. “No, I’ll come too soon. I want you to fuck me.”

Through the haze of his nearsightedness, he saw Koumyou grin. “I should make you ask more nicely… but then again, I do always spoil you.”

“Mm, you let me get away with murder. Sometimes literally.” Ukoku hooked one leg over Koumyou’s shoulder. Even with the heavy quilted mat beneath them, he expected to hear Koumyou whine about his aching knees in the morning. For now, though, there were no complaints. “You’re a terrible judge of character, you know?”

“Or maybe I’m an exceptionally _good_ judge of character,” Koumyou countered with one of his idiotic smiles.

“No, you’re just terrible.” The feeling of Koumyou’s cock pushing bluntly against his opening was enough to silence their usual banter for a moment, though. Ukoku tensed in anticipation and then relaxed, exhaling a long, shuddering breath. “Koumyou…”

And then Koumyou was inside him, filling him. Although the first surge forward was probably rougher than Koumyou had intended, it was exactly what Ukoku needed.   He hooked his raised leg around the other man and urged him deeper until there was no telling where one of them ended and the other began. Koumyou was the moon, and he was a crow. Like the words in Zhang Ji’s poem, the two of them were bound together by the loneliness of night. Koumyou began to move with slow, smooth strokes that made Ukoku’s back arch – his muscles were as tight as the strings of a _koto_ , and Koumyou knew exactly how to play him.

“Are you alright?” Koumyou asked with a laugh. His voice seemed calm and steady, but Ukoku could hear the faint hint of tension. He was still holding back. Unable to do much more than gasp an affirmative, though, Ukoku didn’t complain. Koumyou’s touch sparked stars in the darkness of his mind, and entire universes were born and destroyed in the space of each thrust.

He squeezed his own cock, trying to hold off the impending orgasm, but it was too late. All-consuming light flared around him, and any shred of conscious thought was obliterated. Darkness and light, yin and yang, a foolish _onmyouji_ and a brilliant moon spirit… in his moment of clarity, he understood that all those things were one and the same.

And then Koumyou was calling to him and tangling his hands in his hair. _Ukoku. Ukoku._ As his awareness returned, he felt warm wetness on his hand and heavy lassitude in his limbs. He felt Koumyou begin to pull away.

“Keep going,” Ukoku rasped. “You haven’t come yet, have you?” Fighting sudden lethargy, he rolled over and pulled himself to his knees. “And this time, don’t hold back.”

“What makes you think I’ve been holding back?” Koumyou caressed his thigh before grabbing hold of his hips, and Ukoku eagerly ground back against him.

“Because I _know_ you.” The answering laugh made Ukoku twitch as he buried his face against his folded arms. Even though it was too soon to come again, even though his body was raw and overstimulated, he wanted Koumyou to fuck him. He needed to feel overwhelmed and overcome.

Koumyou pushed back in hard, drawing surprised gasps from both of them, and immediately began a fast, erratic rhythm. While before he’d chased emptiness, now Ukoku was hyper-aware of every sensation. It felt good – too good. He choked on a soundless cry and gulped air in gasping mouthfuls, enjoying the burn in his lungs and in his over-sensitive ass. Koumyou came with a cry of his own, and they fell together into a breathless embrace.

“Hnnnnn.”

“Very eloquent! As expected from a poet,” Koumyou teased, his voice a bit too bright for Ukoku’s exhausted mind. He rolled over to face him and narrowly missed mashing the other man’s face with an elbow.

“Ugghh. Fuck off.”

“Not for a third time, I think. It’s almost morning.” The moon had finally sunk below the trees, and the rising sun had colored the far horizon in streaks of blazing yellows and pinks. Ukoku closed his eyes, and Koumyou wrapped his arm over him to lightly run his fingers along the knobby bones of his spine. “You usually disappear before the dawn,” he murmured.

“Can’t. Too tired.” Koumyou snorted in laughter.

“You can always stay here.”

“What about the brat? Won’t he be up soon?”

Koumyou seemed unconcerned. “I imagine that if he wakes and sees _your_ shoes at the door, he’ll be very eager to find _somewhere else_ to be for the rest of the day. I really don’t understand why the two of you don’t get along. You’re so…”

“Don’t you dare insinuate that I have anything in common with the brat,” Ukoku groused. The lingering night breeze was starting to chill his sweat-slicked skin, so he reached for Koumyou’s discarded robe and wrapped it around himself. The thought of sleeping on Koumyou’s veranda until mid-afternoon was appealing. The brat may have been a morning person, but _he_ most certainly was not.

“Hm. Well, there is at least one thing that you have in common.” Ukoku opened his eyes and found the other man staring at him with that soft, thoughtful expression he usually reserved for his son.

“And what’s that?” Koumyou smiled, then pressed his lips to Ukoku’s forehead.

“Oh, it wouldn’t be any fun if I told you. I’m sure you’ll figure it out eventually.”

 

 

 **Notes!** (I had to put them here because AO3’s limit for footnotes is only 5000 characters…)

 **1)** The title of this fic comes from a poem called “Drinking Alone With The Moon,” written during the 8th century by the Chinese poet Li Bai.

 _A single jug of wine among the flowers_  
_I drink alone, with no friend beside me_  
_I raise my cup to the bright moon_  
_The moon and I make two, and my shadow makes three_

 _But the moon can’t enjoy the wine_  
_And my shadow merely goes through the motions_  
_But for now, with moon and shadow as my friends_  
_I seize the fading pleasures of spring_

 _I sing, and the moon sways with me_  
_I dance, and my shadow can’t stay still_  
_Sober, we’re the closest of companions_  
_Drunk, we each drift apart_

 _I’ll leave my worldly heart behind and journey on_  
_Until we meet again, beyond the stars_

For some reason, this poem really reminded me of that scene in the manga where Ukoku is smoking a cigarette in the moonlight and talking to Koumyou, who’s long dead by that point… Finally, a practical (?) use for that Chinese literature course I took in school!

 **2)** “A Night-Mooring At Maple Bridge,” written by the 8th century Chinese poet Zhang Ji, is one of the most famous classic poems in China and Japan. So, the imagery of the moon and a crow on a lonely night is very well known in Japan. The text of the poem has actually appeared in a few pieces of Minekura’s art, because Minekura _loves_ gratuitous symbolism.

 **3)** Speaking of gratuitous symbolism, let’s talk names. Ukoku’s name (烏哭) translates to “crow’s cry.” In China, crows are associated with destruction and the sun. According to legend, 10 suns were pulled across the sky by a rotating team of 10 crows. One day, all 10 crows decided to fly their suns at the same time, and the world began to burn. Houyi, a famous archer, saved the world by shooting down 9 of the crows. The people made Houyi their king in thanks for his great feat of bravery and skill, and the gods rewarded him with the elixir of immortality. But Houyi was such a cruel and tyrannical king that his wife, Chang-E, stole the elixir and attempted to flee. Houyi tried to shoot her, but the gods intervened and transformed Chang-E into the goddess of the moon. Houyi died alone and despised. The couple is still revered as a representation of yin and yang, and the story is told during the Mid-Autumn Festival.

Koumyou’s obviously connected to the moon in Saiyuki, and while his name (光明) translates to “light of enlightened wisdom,” the kanji for “enlightened wisdom” (明) is made up of the kanji for “sun” (日) and “moon” (月). Incidentally, Koumyou’s former name, Houmei (峯明), which means “peak of wisdom,” uses a variant kanji for the “Mine” in Minekura’s name (峰倉) and is probably a reference to the Buddhist ascetic practice of walking around the peak of Mount Hiei (more on Mount Hiei later in the notes!) for 1000 straight days. Ukoku’s preferred brand of cigarettes in the manga is “Mine” (峰) brand, by the way. I wonder if he ever knew Koumyou’s real name?

 **4)** BUT WAIT, THERE’S MORE. “A Night-Mooring at Maple Bridge” isn’t the _only_ famous literary reference to the moon and crows. Minekura also seems to be fond of Ikkyuu, a 15th-century Buddhist monk and famous poet who is considered the founder of “Red Thread” Zen. There are little references to Ikkyuu scattered in some of the chapter title pages in the manga. “Red Thread” Zen was very controversial at the time for its open celebration of sex – Ikkyuu was a free spirit who traveled around the country, bringing Zen to prostitutes and criminals and shaking the stuffy Buddhist bureaucracy in the process. Even at the age of 77, he married a young blind girl and continued to write passionate poetry. As a younger man, Ikkyu was said to have been meditating by moonlight on a boat in Lake Biwa, and when he heard a crow cry out at the approaching dawn, it sparked a sudden revelation of enlightenment. Ikkyuu refused to become a Zen master, though. Instead, he became a wandering monk who lived such a wild life that he earned the nickname “Crazy Cloud.” Minekura has referred to Koumyou as a “drifting cloud,” so she’s obviously drawing a parallel to Ikkyuu.

 **5)** Technically, glasses hadn’t been invented yet at this point in history, and glass-making technology kinda stalled out the Far East for centuries, but I can’t imagine Ukoku without his glasses, so…

 **6)** Heian history lesson! The Heian period lasted from 794-1185, a period of great peace for Japan. The capital city of the Heian kingdom was Kyoto, then known as Heian-Kyo. Chinese culture was very influential, especially among the upper classes. With no major wars going on, status in the Imperial Court was gained through family connections and artistic skill. Art was so refined that reputations were made and ruined based on love poems or the style of a kimono! Men and women wore their hair long, and clothing was so elaborate that a noblewoman might wear twelve or more layers of kimono at once. I imagine it was dreadfully hot in all those clothes, so people often socialized in the evening. Popular pastimes included poetry competitions (usually on seasonal topics), storytelling, singing, various games, and a variety of hackysack.

Rank was a big deal for Heian courtiers. In In the “Pillow Book,” a Heian-era diary written by court lady Sei Shonagon, she snarks endlessly about low-ranking men. A man’s rank determined the color of his court robes and his level of access to the Emperor. 6th rank was generally the lowest level that still counted as “nobility.” Although Heian aristocrats were remarkably tolerant of love affairs and sexuality, an affair between people of significantly different social levels was seen as scandalously tacky.

 **7)** Japanese pop culture has gone through a bit of an “onmyouji boom” in recent years, so they’ve been featured in a lot of manga and movies. Onmyouji were court sorcerers who performed divinations and exorcisms based on an esoteric blend of Buddhism, Shinto, Taoism and both Japanese and Chinese shamanism.

The most famous _onmyouji_ of all time was Abe no Seimei, a 10th-century sorceror. Seimei was said to be the half-human child of a minor nobleman and a fox spirit, so even in childhood he was said to have incredible spiritual powers. He commanded 12 _shikigami_ servants, saved the Emperor from vengeful spirits, outwitted his magical rivals, and even raised the dead. Obviously, I’m basing Koumyou on Seimei here. There’s a well-known manga series about Seimei written by Yumemakura Baku, which has been adapted into the “Onmyouji” movie series.

 **8)** If you haven’t seen the Studio Ghibli version of the Princess Kaguya story, go watch it. It’s gorgeous. The famous fairy tale was starting to take its modern form during the Heian period, but there are many variants. Depending on the version, it’s either a romantic tragedy, a moral tale, or a story about the love parents have for their children.

 **9)** Ukoku’s real name is Kenyuu (健邑), which is written with the kanji for “healthy village.” It doesn’t really suit him, does it? Incidentally, “Nii Jianyi” (你健一) is written with the kanji for “you,” “health,” and “one.” 一 and 邑 are both pronounced as “yi” in Chinese, so at some point, I guess he decided to start writing his name as 健一 instead of 健邑? Why is he almost the only character in Saiyuki whose name is actually pronounced in the Chinese way?   It’s a mystery.

 **10)** Mount Hiei, located just outside modern-day Kyoto, has been the site of Enryaku-ji temple and the center of Japanese Buddhism (especially for the Tendai sect) for well over a thousand years. At its peak, Enryaku-ji maintained an army of thousands of warrior monks and was deeply involved with Heian court politics. Members of the Imperial family were given honorary positions at major Buddhist temples, which had the added bonus of keeping them from meddling in succession disputes. The most famous practice at Enryaku-ji is the _kaihougyou_ , where monks walk around the mountain for anywhere between 100 and 1000 straight days. Once they begin, the monks must either complete the marathon or commit suicide. That’s some pretty hardcore ascetic Buddhism. The temple was so deeply involved in politics over the centuries that it hired armies of mercenaries, until the famous warlord Oda Nobunaga burned the temple to the ground in the 1500s. These days, Enryaku-ji has a somewhat shady reputation and is known to be involved with the yakuza…

Buddhism had a bit of a slow start in Japan, until the introduction of the Tendai sect and the Lotus Sutra. Previously, Buddhism had been so male-dominated that women, sinners and animals could only achieve Buddha-hood by being reborn as righteous men, but the Lotus Sutra promised that anyone could reach enlightenment. Fueled in large part by female practitioners, Tendai Buddhism spread very quickly during the Heian period.

 **11)** There are many stories about the moon in Japan and China, and most of them are rather melancholy. The goddess Chang-E loses her heroic husband to madness, the moon rabbit sacrifices itself, the god Tsukuyomi commits murder and is banished by his sister, Wu Gang is forever condemned to the Sisyphean task of cutting the moon's ever-growing forests, the _katsura-otoko_ inadvertently kills his lovers, Princess Kaguya flies away to the moon and forgets those who loved her... The _katsura-otoko_ legend was a rather popular topic for poetry during the Heian period and after.

Lady Ise wrote this poem in the 10th century:

 _I think of you, the man in the moon with his katsura tree_  
_When it rains, know that my tears are falling for you_

Centuries later, the famed poet Basho answered Lady Ise’s poem with one of his own:

 _The man of the katsura tree_  
_Has left the moon at last_  
_The moon is hidden by rain_

So according to Basho, even the _katsura-otoko_ can one day be freed from solitude.

 **12)** When Koumyou remarks that Ukoku would be a very troublesome ghost, he’s thinking of Sugawara no Michizane, a Heian-era nobleman and poetic genius who died in bitter exile following a political conflict. After his death, the capital was plagued by disaster after disaster, so the Emperor had him deified as Tenjin-sama, the Shinto god of education, and built a great shrine in his honor. Finally, the disasters ceased. Incidentally, the _onmyouji_ Abe no Seimei was also made into a god after his death, because it was thought that he’d probably be an especially restless and mischievous spirit!

 **13)** Ukoku muses a bit on the Heart Sutra, one of the core texts of Buddhism. In the sutra, the bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara (aka Kanzeon Bosatsu) reveals that enlightenment can be reached by embracing emptiness. (Paraphrased by me:)

 _Form is emptiness, emptiness is form_  
_Feelings, perceptions, impulses, consciousness, righteousness_  
_These are all empty things_  
_They have neither beginning nor end_  
_They are neither pure nor corrupt_  
_They are neither perfect nor imperfect_  
_In emptiness, they do not exist_  
_There is no eye, no ear, no nose, no tongue, no body, no mind_  
_No ignorance, no knowledge, no decay, no death, no eternal life_  
_No suffering, no beginning, no ending, no path_  
_No thought, no attainment, no failure_  
_A bodhisattva is free from lies, and free from fears_  
_And so he achieves nirvana through the heart of perfect wisdom_

Although the original Heart Sutra was recorded by Xuanzang, the 7th-century monk who Sanzo is (very!) loosely based on, I think of Sanzo and Ukoku as having two very different interpretations of the text… or maybe they even embody two different interpretations. Koumyou, I think, would have a third interpretation. Here’s Ikkyuu’s poem on the same topic:

 _No one really knows the nature of birth, nor the true dwelling place._  
_We return to the source and turn to dust._  
_Many paths lead from the foot of the mountain,_  
_But at the peak, we all gaze at the single bright moon._  
_If at the end of our journey, there is no final resting place,_  
_Then we need not fear losing our way._  
_No beginning, no end, our minds die and are born,_  
_The emptiness of emptiness!_


End file.
